


Winter Wonderland

by JackShirogane



Category: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Genre: Angst, Bickering, Denial, Denial of Feelings, Drow, Drow/Human - Freeform, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Frenemies, Gay, M/M, One Shot, Snowball Fight, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 09:35:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25967473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackShirogane/pseuds/JackShirogane
Summary: Jarlaxle discovers snow, and warms the heart of a certain assassin, even if he'd rather die than admit it.Don't ask me why Jarlaxle doesn't know about snow, just go with it.
Relationships: Jarlaxle Baenre & Artemis Entreri
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Winter Wonderland

“What… is this?” Jarlaxle asked astonishedly, kicking it aside with his boot. It made a loud, dramatic click as he set it back on the cave stone. “Why is it so… white?”

Artemis Entreri was already twenty feet ahead, picking his way down a bright white ridge. “You’ve never seen snow before?”

“Snow,” Jarlaxle mimicked. “Is it safe to touch?” By the time he looked back at Entreri, a snowball crashed into his face. He spat it out loudly as Entreri laughed his horrific sneer, and scraped a little off of his shoulder. He considered throwing something more potent at his human companion, but decided against it. “Fascinating,” he said softly, looking to the snow in his hand and noticing its stark contrast against his charcoal skin. “There’s never been snow on any of my trips to the surface,” he said, before a violent shiver erupted across his body. Entreri scowled. 

“I don’t suppose you own a winter jacket,” he mused, before sighing in annoyance. “We’d better get moving before nightfall, then,” he said. “I see a cave within reach that’s safer to rest in until the snow melts.” He tested the snow with his foot. “It will melt in a few days.”

“Melt?” Jarlaxle said, the disappointment clear in his voice. “I don’t want it to melt yet, I’ve only just discovered it!” 

Entreri shrugged. “You can freeze to death then,” he said before turning back to the path. “You can marvel over the snow on the way.” Jarlaxle followed tentatively, wearing a dramatic scowl that was only half sincere, in hopes that Entreri would turn around and notice. He picked up a handful of snow as he walked, testing the way it melded to his touch. 

“Catch,” he said to Entreri, tossing him the snow. Entreri caught it effortlessly and stared at it, truly perplexed. When he said nothing, Jarlaxle intervened. “It’s a snow diamond,” he said with a grin. “Why the face? Are humans not taught their shapes as babes?”

Entreri tossed it back and picked up his own handful of snow. Three tries later, he realized that he couldn’t nearly replicate the shape that Jarlaxle had made. “Drow hands are more attuned to poking and prodding than fighting, as are their mouths,” he shot at Jarlaxle with what was barely noticeable as a smile. He took one of the failed attempts and shaved it down to a diamond shape with his dagger, then tossed it to Jarlaxle and kept walking. 

“Is there any other cave we can stop in?” Jarlaxle asked after about an hour of walking. “I’m afraid that my cloak isn’t built for surface temperatures.” He purposely clicked his boots against the gravel. Entreri ignored him for a few steps, until the clicking became too much for him to bear. He stood still and steamed for a second, but dropped his shoulders in defeat. He took off his top jacket and tossed it back without turning. 

“Mine are,” he said, adjusting the cloak under it. He started walking again and suppressed a shiver. He knew he would be okay, but giving up his provisions for a companion who could have prepared better never sat right with him. 

Jarlaxle almost threw it back at him and told him to keep his tricks to himself, but upon inspection, there was nothing unusual about the cloak. He put it on, trying not to complain about its plain grey color, and kept walking in silence. He clicked his boots to fill the silence, but the walk was painfully boring. He had resorted to tossing a dagger into the air and catching it when he noticed that Entreri was shivering. The ridge they were aiming for was within sight and would be upon them in an hour or two, but Jarlaxle stopped with a deliberate click. Entreri stopped a few steps ahead.

“What is it now,” he growled, surely grumpy from being cold.

“It’s you,” Jarlaxle said flatly. “You’re cold.”

“I’m fine,” Entreri said, though his teeth chattered loudly for only a moment. He continued to walk, but stopped after he realized that Jarlaxle wasn’t following. “I said I’m fine,” he said more forcefully this time. 

Jarlaxle pondered his options, and realized that the most effective choice was also the most dangerous. He could give Entreri his cloak back, sure, but it would take far too long to be effective. He sauntered up, boots silent for once, and laid his arms heavily around Entreri’s shoulders. Entreri melted into the warm embrace at first, but shoved Jarlaxle off with surprising force before the sly drow could even process it. “What’s wrong with you?” the assassin shot at him. “Don’t touch me!” he snapped again, though Jarlaxle had fully expected this and knew that he was only covering for the moment that he had accepted the embrace.

Jarlaxle shrugged at him. “If you froze to death, how would I survive? I’m only a vulnerable drow in a land full of snow and winter,” he said with a pout, silently congratulating himself on remembering the word “winter” from the studies of his younger days. 

Entreri cocked his head in utter confusion. “I’m not going to freeze to death, you dense elf,” he grumbled. 

Jarlaxle closed his eyes with a smug smile. “How would I know that? I know nothing of the cold, let alone of how much it takes to freeze to death.”

The assassin’s eyes narrowed and seemed almost black with pure annoyance. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“You could either accept my body heat or take your cloak back, or I’m not moving from this spot.” When Entreri turned to take a step, Jarlaxle folded his legs gracefully to sit in the snow, and picked up another ball of snow to start shaping. This made Artemis Entreri audibly groan in frustration. 

“Just get it over with,” he snarled. “I want to leave.” He practically prickled, but his hands weren’t poised to reach for any weapon, not that Jarlaxle suspected he would, so Jarlaxle tossed the snow aside and got back up. 

“You know I’m going to savor this,” he said to injure the assassin’s pride even more. He wrapped his arms around Entreri again, and gently ran a finger down the back of his head. 

“Two seconds and I kill you,” Entreri growled, muffled from the way that he was being pressed into Jarlaxle’s collarbone. 

“Oh Artemis,” Jarlaxle said, almost singing. “This isn’t so bad, is it?” He chuckled, and rested his hand on his companion’s shoulder. 

“I’ve never felt so much hatred in my life.” Jarlaxle couldn’t help but fully laugh at that. He considered telling the human assassin that he had felt the way he graciously accepted the warmth, but decided against it. It would be their little secret. 

“I can’t take any more affection,” Entreri groaned after he had been sufficiently warmed, spatting the word “affection” as though it were poison in his mouth. Jarlaxle let go of him without a word and pretended not to see the chill that rolled through the assassin’s body the second he was free. Entreri immediately started walking, almost double the pace he had kept before. They were at the cave with a fire made a full hour before dark. Entreri sat by the fire, brooding while he warmed his calloused hands.

“Anything you’d like to get off your chest?” Jarlaxle prodded smugly.

“Say one more word to me for the rest of the night, and I’ll slit your throat while you sleep.” The usual grave sincerity of his threats wasn’t present, and the drow mercenary knew far too well that the pink in his face wasn’t a result of the fire or the cold. 

Jarlaxle shrugged, and reclined into his makeshift bed.


End file.
